When Danger Comes Near
by Moonbeam7
Summary: What if Anakin hadn't been so innocent in Episode I? What if something different had happened because of it? Next chapter up.
1. Revelation

He was tired. So very tired, his eyes drifting closed even when he should have been paying attention. He hadn't ever been this tired before. Every thought seemed to take an hour to reach him. How strange. The tips of his fingers were growing numb. Numb and tired.  
  
He was just tired.  
  
Not so much as tired of that day, but tired of life. It was his time to die, his time to kneel over, let his spirit be one with the Force.  
  
Close his eyes and never wake up. Leaving behind- nothing. A former Padawan who wouldn't speak to him. Friends who were no better than enemies. A life as a Jedi that would easily be forgotten. So many had died and joined the dirt.  
  
He smiled a little. Ashes to ashes and dust to dust. Everything he had strived so hard for to be forgotten and left behind.  
  
His own life was ashes, and he would be only too glad to let it be dust. What was it that the Masters used to say during the old ceremonies? He remembered it, yes. His Master had died, and they had said:  
  
"One candle dimmed leaves a darkness, even in a sea of a thousand lights."  
  
And they had snuffed the candle out, the one at the foot of the dead Jedi, and polite tears had fallen at their feet. Polite tears, the only kind that any would shed for such a Master.  
  
He supposed that his tears had been real. His Master had cared about him once, before everything changed. Yes, once they had been friends, been more than that, been father and son, back when he was a young idealistic fool who thought that all Jedi, especially his Master, were perfect.  
  
But he knew now that he had been wrong. Still, he cried at the funeral for who his Master had once been, had been before it had begun, had been before he left him alone. His Master had lived beyond many battles, and in the end, it was old age that had killed him, old age and regret. Regret that he had ever known his Padawan. Somehow, the man had carried it over to his own Padawan, a student who had been sheltered and did not understand how someone could be hurt. He had been similarly protected from "real life," but had he ever been so blind?  
  
It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Ashes to ashes and dust to dust, right? That was what he needed to believe. Ashes to ashes and dust to dust.  
  
He reached over and turned out the light.  
  
And all the worlds shall pass away.  
  
Obi-Wan wished it would come soon.  
  
It had been years since Obi-Wan had really been out in the sunshine, felt the calm breeze on his skin, and, thinking this, he threw up his hood. Covered in his cloak he was just a Jedi, and no distinctions were made.  
  
He walked briskly out of the Temple. What had once been his home was his prison, but it didn't matter so much, did it? As long as he could escape it sometimes, feel something... it didn't matter.  
  
The first thing he found was a small restaurant, not high class, but tiny and homely, where the foods were called what they were, and no signs bragged about sanitation. The booths were cracked bantha leather, and the shiny stools didn't spin quite right. He took a seat and ordered a mixed drink.  
  
Obi-Wan sipped it, the taste momentarily burning his throat. He wasn't used to hard alcohol, but certain situations demanded it. He remembered once when he and Qui-Gon had landed on a planet where their version of water was a stale-tasting beer-like liquid.  
  
But he didn't like to remember Qui-Gon, it made him uneasy, made him want to forget some more. He swilled the drink down faster than he ever had before, and looked around blearily. The liquor didn't sit well with him on an empty stomach, so he hurried to order a platter of friend chunnu, swallowing the small meaty pieces hastily. He dug though the pockets of his robe, tipped the waitress, and left.  
  
He hadn't expected, upon sitting in the aircar, and backing out, that he would crash. And that the last thing he saw before his vision went black was...  
  
"Master?"  
  
He awoke with a cold hand on his back. Looking up, the man saw Qui-Gon's stormy blue eyes intent on him.  
  
"Good. You're awake," the Master said in a flat voice devoid of emotion.  
  
"And alive," Obi-Wan retorted, trying to sit up, "which is more than I can say about you." But the hand that pushed him back against the unfamiliar sleepcouch was solid.  
  
He trembled. "I saw you die! I know you're dead, Master!"  
  
"There is no death; there is the Force," Qui-Gon said, his pale lips curving in a smile. "Did you not say those same words to me, at my funeral? Only then, they had a little bit more spirit in them..."  
  
"But there was a funeral! I was there- I saw you burn to ashes! It isn't possible that-" He flew back against the wall, smacking his head on the cold steel, hardly daring to look up at Qui-Gon's flaming eyes.  
  
"The Force works in mysterious ways, Obi-Wan. I suppose that day you thought you were its instrument."  
  
"I saved the Order! You would have-"  
  
"Wrong, Padawan! You killed the Order! Whatever you did on that day wasn't supposed to have happened, and it was you and only you who destroyed the Jedi!" He smiled that thin-lipped smile again. "But I am not dead, Obi-Wan. Not anymore."  
  
"I saw what would have happened," Obi-Wan said through clenched teeth. "I had to act!"  
  
"Yet you were part of your own vision," the Master said softly, "and you were not similarly killed. Why is that, Padawan?"  
  
"Do you forget nothing?" Obi-Wan asked with a weak sigh. "I thought that it was finally over..."  
  
"No, Padawan. I didn't forget." His eyes hardened. "How does someone forget when they are killed by their own apprentice?" 


	2. Explanation

Obi-Wan gritted his teeth against the onslaught of guilt. No, no, no. He hadn't killed Qui-Gon, he'd... saved him. Saved him from a more unpleasant death and saved the Jedi Order. He hadn't ever been able to discern it, but on his twenty-fifth birthday, he'd started to have disturbing dreams. He'd ignored them until they had a mission to Naboo.  
  
He had persuaded them to send other Jedi. They had been killed, but the Trade Federation was gone from that planet. Yet a nagging sense of incompletion remained. His Master had gotten angry after that- angry at him for interfering in what should have happened.  
  
But he wasn't the one who had the dreams at night, who saw nightmares even when he was awake. Qui-Gon spoke of going to Tatooine, an Outer Rim planet that Obi-Wan knew his Master must never set foot on.  
  
He wasn't his Master by then, and it was a little harder to get into his quarters, hide is presence in the Force, and slowly administered the drug.  
  
Obi-Wan could still remember- O Force!- how it had felt, testing the beat of Qui-Gon's heart with his hand.  
  
A slight motion. Thud. Then... nothing. He must have waited for hours before the man was in a deep enough sleep to even stick the needle in his arm, and then hour more to wait until he was sure.  
  
Until he was sure that Qui-Gon was dead.  
  
He lifted his head painfully now, feeling cold shivers down his spine.  
  
"Why are you here?" he asked.  
  
The man who should have been dead narrowed his eyes. "To make sure that you didn't kill anyone else, my *Padawan*."  
  
"Not kill, never kill," Obi-Wan stuttered, rubbing his sweating palms on his tunic. "You were my father, Master, I had to save you, but you were angry. You wanted HIM to come, wanted HIM to take MY place, and you had to- " He buried his face in his hands. "I didn't want for you to die, but..."  
  
"But you were jealous."  
  
The sharp accusation was true, and Obi-Wan knew it.  
  
"Yes. Jealous. I didn't want you to care about him. I wanted to be your only Padawan! I'm practically your son, Qui-Gon, I didn't want to be replaced!"  
  
Qui-Gon smiled at his former apprentice's discomfort and sorrow.  
  
"But you have been replaced, Obi-Wan."  
  
"What-?"  
  
A young man about eighteen walked in, sandy hair cut in the style of a Padawan, a long braid hanging to his shoulder-  
  
"Who is this, Master?" the young man said, glaring at Obi-Wan. "I heard you call, but I thought that you wanted me to stay out of here-"  
  
"I changed my mind, Ani. Padawan, I want you to meet Obi-Wan."  
  
"No!" Obi-Wan cried sharply. "You fool, he shouldn't have ever left that planet..."  
  
Anakin walked over and stared Obi-Wan straight in the eyes. The young Padawan radiated of controlled anger, fierce and evil.  
  
"Should we kill him, Master?" he asked casually, pressing a glowing red blade against Obi-Wan's throat. His lion eyes bored into Obi-Wan. "My Master told me ALL about you."  
  
Qui-Gon shrugged, uninterested. "Maybe not now, Padawan. Some other time. For now, Obi-Wan has a part to play in the future."  
  
The Master's smile was lean, like an animal's. "Someone has to die on Naboo, after all."  
  
**  
  
Obi-Wan had once been afraid that he would go to Naboo. He had never thought that he would be going there in an old-fashioned pair of manacles.  
  
"Enjoying yourself?" Qui-Gon asked dryly, dropping to one knee to look him in the eyes.  
  
"Not particularly. Do you suppose that you could tell me how you managed to come back from the dead?"  
  
"I might as well. This is going to be a long ride, Obi-Wan."  
  
He sat cross-legged on the floor, fiddling with the end of one of the chains. "It's not very hard," he said. "I was partially in the Force when you killed me. I had slipped off into meditation. I simply slid my spirit back into my body."  
  
"But it was burnt."  
  
He shrugged. "Not enough to stop someone really determined. I used the Force to mend it... and I had a lot of help. The Force is very unhappy with you, Obi-Wan."  
  
Obi-Wan sucked in a huge breath. "And... Anakin?"  
  
"A good boy. It would have been better if he could have been trained earlier, but he's doing quite well."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Why come after you?" Qui-Gon laughed coldly. "It had to happen, you know. We have to go to Naboo together, no matter what."  
  
"But one of us will have to face a Sith."  
  
"Very good, Obi-Wan. That's what I've been preparing. The last of the Sith are dead now, so I've taken the liberty of making one myself."  
  
Obi-Wan looked up at the sullen Anakin brooding in the corner.  
  
"O Force." 


	3. Complication

Okay, here's the next part. By the way, there is a reason for the short sections and constant cliff-hangers- I first archived it post by post in a forum. SilverDragon, you have my permission to archive this fic- thanks for asking.  
  
Qui-Gon had reasoned it out as such. Obi-Wan had prevented something that should have happened, being that Anakin was found, and that one of them must die on Naboo, fighting a Sith.  
  
The hard part would be doing it together. Once you've died, you're not particularly keen to help the man who killed you. Yet, deep down inside, Qui-Gon still knew.  
  
He still knew why Obi-Wan had killed him, knew what even Obi-Wan did not know. For a brief moment in the Force, he had seen the young man's thoughts and subconscious written out before him, and he had understood.  
  
He didn't want to understand, didn't want to find the knowledge that haunted him day and night. It made him feel as if maybe he should have left Anakin on Tatooine after all.  
  
It was when he remembered that he almost started to unlock Obi-Wan's chains. It was when he remembered that he saw what a monster he had created in Anakin, a monster that either he or Obi-Wan would have to destroy.  
  
He would remember... and he would try his best to forget, until the end of time. There was something deep inside him that urged him to look at it more carefully, but it was always pushed away ever-so-gently. And then he really WOULD forget, and feel free to stare at Obi-Wan with the same kind of hatred he had felt for his old Padawan for years.  
  
But he still knew.  
  
He still knew the Secret.  
  
**  
  
"What have you learned?"  
  
Anakin sucked in a deep breath. It was the question that he always hated, but it came at the end of every training session, be it lightsaber practice or meditation. He gripped the slim handle of his artful double 'saber as he answered.  
  
"My hatred is my strength."  
  
"But you know that already," Qui-Gon pointed out wearily. "You've known that for years. What did you learn TODAY, Padawan? I'm not looking for abstracts."  
  
"The point of my battle is-"  
  
"No!" He was interrupted. "Solids, Anakin, solids. What moves to make and not to. Why a stance isn't a good one. What mistakes you made."  
  
He recited a long list of such things, but his eyes were intent on the kneeling form of the meditating Obi-Wan, and his heart intent on the abstract of his hatred. Qui-Gon had taught him all he could, and Anakin was growing tired of these pointless games.  
  
"Very good," Qui-Gon said finally, touching Anakin's shoulder approvingly. "You're doing well."  
  
Anakin shied away from the hand, laughing coldly. "Approval, Master? A bit out-of-place for a Sith Lord." He glanced at Qui-Gon's fatherly smile. "Affection, even."  
  
"But I am not a Sith," the Master reminded him. "I am a Jedi, and it will become my duty on Naboo to oppose you."  
  
The sandy-haired young man tightened his grip momentarily. Yes. He'd very nearly forgotten that.  
  
"I thought Jedi weren't allowed to hate. And you DO hate, Master. You hate Obi-Wan as much as you can."  
  
"He killed me," Qui-Gon said candidly. "Or tried to. But I was already in the Force, and found healing my body and repairing it a simple task. You know this."  
  
Anakin nodded. "Yes, I know. I know everything now."  
  
"Everything, Padawan?" Qui-Gon asked, one eyebrow raised. "I find that highly unlikely."  
  
Anakin didn't.  
  
**  
  
"Yes, I know. I know everything now."  
  
Had it been Qui-Gon's imagination, or was there a hint of a pause. "I know everything... now."  
  
What had Anakin realized, remembered, seen? What had he found out? His apprentice had been drifting. Anakin was too strong in the Force, he shouldn't have forgotten that it deals not only in abstracts.  
  
Shouldn't have, but did. Forgot something momentarily, which he never did.  
  
Had he heard the gap in Qui-Gon's own words, his own hesitation before he admitted that yes, he did hate Obi-Wan? Or was it the fact that Qui-Gon reminded him once more that on Naboo, they would be enemies?  
  
No... not that...  
  
There had been a finality in that lesson. Anakin had defeated him. The young man was cocky, self-impressed, and had no control over his hated. Qui- Gon held his own underneath a steely mask, and did not use it. He had trained Anakin to similarly hide his, though to use it on many occasions.  
  
But Anakin was reckless, and he had come to a decision during that lesson.  
  
"You're being a fool," Obi-Wan said quietly, his voice full of disdain. "YOU may have agreed to play this foolish game of correcting the past, and I may have no choice, but has he agreed? He is still free, Qui-Gon, and one dash of that lightsaber blade will ruin your hopes for a battle on Naboo.  
  
"Games," Obi-Wan continued. "That's all he sees your little manipulations as. He doesn't see you as correcting anything. Perhaps you haven't told him that the Sith must die on Naboo."  
  
"Can die, Obi-Wan, not must-" Qui-Gon started, but didn't finish.  
  
"Then maybe we CAN simply not have the battle at all. If all this is is two different paths- our problem is solved. The Sith are dead, Qui-Gon, all save the one you have created."  
  
A swift kick of Obi-Wan's foot brought the lightsaber scattering to Qui- Gon's feet.  
  
"You can end it now, MASTER, before he ends you." 


End file.
